


Green Blood and Chocolate

by Lucy_Claire



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunk!Spock, M/M, Prompt! Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7644868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucy_Claire/pseuds/Lucy_Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On shore leave on Betazed, Jim finds out that chocolate has a very peculiar affect on Spock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green Blood and Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Magyar available: [Zöld vér és Csokoládé](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232036) by [Szim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szim/pseuds/Szim)



> Prompt: 'Spock drunk on chocolate' for Tumblr user fandoms-and-things

Ever since he became captain, Jim never really knew what to do with himself at parties.

Back at the Academy, Bones had to drag him back to their dorm a few times, pull him off tables, throw him over his shoulder or at least sober him up enough to make him put on his shoes and walk home. He would like to say that those were fun times but those nights were all blurs retold to him in sarcastic recaps the next morning. Besides, he didn’t go out for the memories, he went out to empty his head after five days of cramming.

Now that he had gotten to his goal, survived a few weird and amazing experiences in space aboard an exploration vessel of all places, which should have been an easygoing and nerdy experience for all, Jim felt like those weird and amazing times aged him by fifteen years. On every planet they landed on and every people that thanked them for their help, welcoming parties and yay-we-survived celebrations felt more and more like an obligation rather than an excuse to loosen his belt and get drunk.

The only one taking advantage of that though seemed to be Scotty, and, to a lesser extent, Chekov. Bones went into Dad-Mode the first few celebrations, objecting giving the ship’s resident baby brother alcohol. Chekov’s objections that he drank all the time in Russia and American laws had no hold on space, swayed him a little but Bones refused to let it go without a gruff warning of “If you end up puking your guts out because your pubescent body couldn’t handle all the booze, don’t come crying to me.”

Ironically, the last three times they went to celebrations that served alcohol, it was Uhura and Chapel of all people who ended up drinking enough to empty their stomachs. In order of party sobriety, it now seemed to go Uhura and Chapel, Scotty, Chekov, Bones, Sulu, Jim and then, finally, Spock. Not for the lack of trying, alcohol, space or not, had nearly no effect on Spock, he seemed to break it down to sugars and fructose the same way a human body would lemonade.

Here on Betazed, the ship’s crew was to stay a docked a week while they negotiated the planet’s relationship with Earth and the Federation, and on the third night was a big telepath festival where not only did the wine addle everyone’s minds but the branching-out of every Betazoid’s telepathy broadcasting their drunken euphoria made everyone even more liable to dance barefoot on a table.

Distancing himself from the thrumming music in the very center of the temple they were dancing in, Jim swiped a glass of Saurian brandy and went back to the entrance, resting his back against the entrance to watch all the bouncing bodies. Bones and Chapel were doing a twisting lindy-hop sort of dance, Uhura and her swishing ponytail swung side to side with Scotty, and Sulu and Chekov were square-dancing.

Spock appeared on the periphery of the dance floor, looking lost as well as uncomfortable, holding a large cocktail glass of a multi-layered drink. Jim stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled at a volume he knew for sure Spock’s ears would pick up. Like a dog hearing the rummaging of a squirrel, Spock perked up and looked directly in Jim’s direction. Jim waved him over and Spock expertly dodged everyone and everything in his path until he reached the entrance.

“Captain,” he greeted curtly.

“We’re off-duty, Spock,” Jim reminded tiredly.

Spock’s lower lip threatened to curve up as he bent his head lower. “Jim. Why aren’t you joining this month’s bacchanalia.”

Jim snorted into his glass. “Sometimes I wonder if you just pick weirdly specific and outdated words like that to piss me off, either that or you think it will make you seem less human to sound like a hipster.”

“So I don’t need to make any effort to seem less human, because I’m not human.” Spock said off-handedly, resting on the wall adjacent to Jim’s. “And I have no incentive to ‘piss you off’, irrational spite isn’t logical.”

“You’re half-human,” he reminded, taking a sip of his brandy. “And you’re also full of shit.”

The offended jolt of Spock’s head nearly cracked him up. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a figure of speech, it means you’re pretty much lying to me and yourself.”

Visibly ticked, Spock corrected, “Yourself and I.”

Jim raised his glass mockingly. “Nice deflect there, don’t see you denying the lying to yourself part.”

Spock looked further down and took a long sip of his drink. It was three layers, the bottom-most brown, the middle beige and the top white. Jim would guess that this was chocolate, latte and cream. “Vulcans don’t lie.”

“Again, half-Vulcan.” Jim slide further into the corner of the wall, rotating the ice in his glass, watching the brandy slosh around the curved walls of his glass. “You know, I’ve always been a tad afraid to ask, but have you always been this rigid about which side you claim or is it mostly because you’re now part of an endangered species?”

“That’s a very blunt question, I didn’t think you were capable of such outside of a diplomatic issue.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Friendly reminder, just because someone doesn’t always use your fancy thesaurus words doesn’t mean they’re dumb.”

“I never claimed you were,” Spock admitted. “From what I’ve seen by your side, and from even far before we set foot on the Enterprise, you’re quite deviously intelligent.”

“I did beat your stupid test,” Jim pointed out proudly.

“Manipol – manipulated it,” Spock corrected, his tongue briefly stumbling over Manipulated.

“Still beat it.”

Jim could have sworn Spock half-rolled his eyes as he took another sip.

Switching his glass from hand to another to lean against Spock’s wall, Jim asked, “What did you mean then?”

Spock released his straw with a smacking noise and ran the tip of his tongue on the roof of his mouth, seemingly savoring the rough texture. Jim wondered what the inside of his mouth felt like, if it was exactly like a human mouth or just different enough to be exciting.

“Spock?” he prodded.

Spock stopped staring strangely at his glass and finally looked Jim in the eye. “Jim?”

“Are you alright?”

Spock slowly nodded, looking intensely into Jim’s eyes like it was the first time he had seen them, all the while running the fingertips of his right hand over each other like he was rolling a small ball between them. “I am…I’m not quite sure what I am.”

“Is it the temperature? It’s a bit cold in here.”

“Yes, that might be it.”

Jim jerked his head towards the doorway. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”

On their way down the front steps, Spock skipped a step and slammed into Jim’s back, grabbing a tight hold on Jim’s biceps to steady himself.

“Whoa there, you sure you’re not coming down with something?”

He turned around and steadied Spock. Spock’s hands replaced themselves on Jim’s upper arms, experimentally squeezing, slanted brows pulled together in a curious frown. “Fascinating.”

“What’s fascinating?” Jim asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Spock loosened his grip and moved his hands further up and over Jim’s chest, smoothing the small wrinkles across Jim’s shirt. “Your presence, your closeness, it feels – it is – it warms me, yet you don’t give off near as much heat as I do.”

“What do you mean warms you?”

Spock was now very green, Jim would anticipate being hurled on if he didn’t know Spock’s blood was green.

Spock’s blood. Was he blushing?

Jim pressed the back of his hand to Spock’s forehead, pushing back his ridiculous bangs. Spock was, as usual, a furnace. “How can I tell if you have a fever or not?”

“My body temperature would drop drastically,” Spock answered, his voice cracking. “You have astounding eyes.”

Jim nearly dropped him. “What?”

“Your eyes, very blue. So blue. I have met a few select Vulcans with hazel or even green eyes but I have never met a person with blue eyes until I reached Earth. Yours are by far the most…fascinating.”

“Alright, it’s official, you’ve gone straight to the hallucination end of feverish.”

“I am perfectly lucid,” Spock excused, stepping off the steps and wading into the street. Jim quickly followed him, tapping for symptoms of Vulcan colds on his comm.

Spock swayed a little when Jim fell into step with him, his shoulder bumping against Jim’s a few times. “Have you gotten accustomed to this yet?”

“What?”

Spock motioned the sky. “Travelling through space, stopping on different planets, seeing different skies and stars and moons from each surface.”

“I’ll never get used to it, no matter how space-sick I get, every time I look out a window and see the scary void we’re floating in, I always focus on the number of stars I can see clearly now. No clouds, daylight or atmosphere to interrupt it, you know?”

Spock looked at him, intently staring in his eyes again. “Do you miss Earth in the slightest?”

“Parts of it. I miss animals, I miss sunsets and sunrises, the sound of rain and the look of snow covering fields and roofs – alright, I miss Earth.” Jim ran a hand over his face and sighed into his palm. “No point in asking if you miss Vulcan, is there?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Spock said bluntly. “I miss some aspects of it, I miss my mother, I miss some of the food, but I have very few good memories of my life there. I was always excluded, ignored and sidelined and scorned by everyone who lived there. The landscape was commonly unforgiving and unremarkable, red sand and chalky mountains and no moons.” With every word, Spock sounded more and more choked-up, like he had gone from feverish to having a runny, clogged nose and burning eyes. Jim reached out a hand and lightly set it on his shoulder.

“I have no control over my emotions,” Spock whispered distantly. “If I should feel anything, I should feel just loss, nostalgia and regret, but I don’t, at least not entirely. Those feelings are outweighed by so many memories I despise. Memories I _hate_.”

Jim was starting to become alarmed.

“Hate is illogical, but I hated living there, I hated the way they thought of me, looked at me, treated me and how they spoke of my mother, how isolated she felt on that planet, how much she wanted to move back to Earth, yet when Vulcan died, my mother died along with it.”

Jim squeezed Spock’s shoulder, getting his attention, pulling him out of whatever deep, downer of a hole he was going down. “It’s okay to be upset, Spock. There’s no use in feeling guilty for someone you have no control over, you didn’t ask for that kind of treatment, you didn’t ask for Vulcan to be destroyed and you loved your mother more than anything else on that planet. No matter how bad it sounds, you’re allowed to mourn her more.”

Spock’s hand landed on Jim’s, his thumb brushing his skin. “You are very reassuring, Jim.”

“Comes with the territory,” Jim joked. “I am in charge of almost a thousand lives.”

"How do you, with your human tendency to react, overreact and become sidetracked by worry always find your way out of such terrible situations? How do you find the urge to keep going when you're faced with a...no-win scenario?"

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios," Jim said with a small smirk. "And, deviously intelligent as I am, what keeps me going in crazy situations is something your human side should use from time to time."

"And what's that?"

"I go with my gut."

Spock’s thumb brushed his skin and a hot spark started between Jim’s knuckles and spread through his hand. They both breathed in loudly.

Jim moved his hand down Spock’s arm. Spock turned up his hand so their palms came in contact and his face became greener, completely flushed. His eyes became further unfocused as they looked in Jim’s direction, his pupils dilated to the point that his irises were thin brown rings.

“There is one other thing I miss about Vulcan,” Spock said quietly, thumb tracing circles against the sensitive spots of Jim’s palm, igniting several sparks of shaky breathlessness. “The sunrise, Vulcan being a red planet made for a pale blue sunrise. A blue I never thought I’d see again.”

Loose tongue, existentialism, dilated pupils and flushing, Spock wasn’t sick he was _drunk_.

Without warning, Spock moved in and pressed his mouth to Jim’s.

For the first time since they set off on their five-year mission, Jim Kirk’s mind was completely quiet, shocked into silence by the feeling of Spock’s tongue brushing his in between kisses. Tilting his head, Jim pressed his own tongue further in Spock’s mouth and felt the roof of his mouth, running his tongue over the textured bumps and then past them, tasting the remains of chocolate on Spock’s own tongue.

What were they doing? Did Spock even know what he was doing?

They pulled apart, panting.

“What was that?” Jim demanded.

He frowned. “A human kiss.”

“As opposed to a Vulcan kiss?”

“Yes,” Spock said simply, raising their linked hands.

“Wait, that’s a kiss?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No? Touching hands is kissing? Is that why you never shake anyone’s hand?”

Spock blinked at him slowly and let go of his hand. “I thought you knew – I thought this was – I –” he stopped, looking at his hands like he just noticed them. “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Dude, I think you’re drunk.”

Spock quirked an eyebrow curiously, stating, “Alcohol has no effect on me. Though I do feel strange.”

“It had to be something you ate.”

Spock looked back to the temple. “The drink, the sugar – the chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” Jim asked, laughing a bit. “You can get drunk chocolate, your heart’s where your liver should be, you kiss with your hands and you lived with blue sunrises.”

“Is that an issue?” Spock asked, trying hard to steady his voice but he was too uninhibited to be putting in any real effort.

“No, just interesting. Endlessly interesting.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So, you took us touching hands as a sign that I was interested or are you too drunk to not know what you’re doing?”

“Were you interested? Are you?” he asked tentatively.

“I am. Are you?”

“I am.” Spock moved closer, reaching his hands out for Jim’s face. Jim stepped back, alarming Spock. “What is it?”

“You didn’t answer me, are you into me because you’re drunk and upset and looking for some comfort or are you actually attracted to me? Because I never got any hint of the latter.”

“Jim, I have admired you since we defeated Nero, I may be less reserved now but no amount of sugar could sway my feelings,” Spock said. “As I said earlier, I have a lot less control over my feelings, opinions and inclinations than I’d like you to think.”

Just to be sure, Jim asked, “Are you going to regret this in the morning and not talk to me?”

“Why would I?”

Jim held Spock’s nape, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Just checking that you know what you're doing.”

"I'm going with my gut." Spock set his warm hands on Jim’s face and pulled him into another kiss.

Next time, so they’d both get a kick out of this, Jim will get brandy-filled chocolates.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

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